Cliche Ventiwings Valentine's Day Contest
by Splintered Rainbows
Summary: Cliche? You'd have to say so! :D Oneshot, MikuXLen, most definitely cliche!


**Cliché: A Ventiwings contest**

****AN: This is for Ventiwings' Valentine's Day contest, 2012. Wowzers! A one-shot! :D Miku and Len~~~

Well, I was like, _this is so cliche! Too cliche! AHHHH!_

And the wonderful idea of writing a cliche story about cliches came to me...

Enjoy the _cliche_ story! ^^

Disclaimer: Vocaloid Doesn't belong to me~~

Oh yeah, usually I write something at the bottom of the chappie, right? Well, I'll just put it here. :D I was actually planning on a RinXLen story, since it might be hard to write a good fanfic about them; there are soooooo many authors at the RinXLen section! But then, I was like _MikuLen all the way! Go, MikuXLen! FTW! ^^_

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><p>Cliché. Just the very meaning of 'Valentine's Day'. Insincere words muttered carelessly and shyly into each others' ears. Blood-red roses that were almost withering, chocolates that already melted into puddles of pathetic bitterness. Yes, I hated Valentine's Day. Should love not be expressed any day of the year? Why was it that on this <em>romantic <em>day, people just had to take the lead in professing? I snorted at the idea of 'cupids' who disrupted my classes just to deliver those horribly written letters, followed by the excited gasps and the envied sighs of more girls. For one, it was a waste of paper and it totally wrecked our schedule. Childish and immature, _for goodness sake_, true love only existed in fairytales, the _cliché_ idea of charming young princes saving damsels in distress.

Was that the best they could ever think up of?

"Miku!" A shrill shriek from the crowd as a girl with long blonde hair waved and made a mad dash for me.

Lily, was my best friend, but also an irritating idealist. She loved romance and often sunk deeply into them, enthusiastically clapping her hands at the heroic character of the male lead. She would, tomy dismay, quote from them rather often, repeating the words in a star-struck manner. I, hated that too. But because Lily was my best friend and neighbour, I bore with it; only striking her on the head on a few occasions. Right now, the blonde was squealing with happiness, her eyes bulging out as she drilled her way over the crowd to the teal-haired girl. I hesitantly raised my katana from my side, shooting warning glances at Lily.

Lily rolled her eyes, engulfing me in a hug. She shook me with anxiety and waved a white envelop in front of my face. I raised an eyebrow. A cupid's letter? Cliché.

"Miku! You got a letter! As did I! Read it now!" the blonde commanded harshly, shoving the letter into my fists.

"Yeah, yeah. And unicorns will pop out from the skies, letting me ride them to see my prince charming. Cliché," I was proud; my voice was laced with sarcasm as I snatched the letter away.

"Pfft! You know you wanna read it and delight upon the _mushy, mushy_ words that your Valentines has inked over onto your love letter!" Lily teased, chuckling at my reddened face.

"Yeah. Well, All I know is that I'm just going to avoid everyone _including you_, to go to the dojo. Later, I shall eat the Forever Alone ice-cream and relinquish the power of being _forever alone_," I retorted, narrowing her eyes.

"But _for now, _you shall read this love letter and turn young with _romance_, the light shining on you… Ah, can you feel the glowing warmth from the letter—" Lily dodged just in time.

"And all I shall feel will be dread and terror at his sickeningly horrid grammar." I tore open the letter and read the contents aloud.

"_Roses are red, _

_Violets are blue._

_If you wield the katana,_

_So will I!"_ At that, I had to laugh, face-palming at the lameness of the content.

Lily pouted, but continued raging war upon me, screaming out her own concluding statements. Lily shook her fists and frowned.

"Well! Valentine's Day is extremely romantic! You should cherish it! After all, high school is a time for you to enjoy yourselves, bask in the warm caress of young love! And roses, oh so sweet! And chocolates! Besides, you should not criticize the author! I-I believe he put in his effort!"

But I merely giggled. "Well, if you like the author so much, why don't you go ahead and marry him? Besides, it'' unfair for those who are allergic to pollen. And flowers eventually wither. Chocolates are digested—I believe I don't have to explain the whole process of digestion. Besides, you said it was _young love, not true love_. In fact, we're too young for love. It's just admiration!"

Lily wagged her eyebrows at me, making her look like a villain. She grinned mischievously, pointing an accusing finger at me. I waved her off with a noble toss of my head, strutting off to the dojo. People avoided me, all those lovebirds flitting about, blushing like tomatoes, the obvious sizzling of their embarrassment making me puke. Icily glaring at the rest of the pupils, I was getting more annoyed. How cliché. Stupid star-struck girls who swooned at every opportunity, now wishing for an impossible future. Castles and ponies naturally, never did exist in my world. I am a realist. And all the clichés of this horrible date make me laugh, amused.

Ridiculous, simply incredulous. The dojo was my territory and I would find some solace within the peace of the place. Ah, zen, finally. However, it was not as dark as I expected it to be. The lights were switched on and the metallic sounds of a sword being brandished filled the room. I frowned, my eyebrows kissing together. Who dared to invade the personal space of 'the ice queen'? It was him, just some boy with blonde locks that matted the sides of his head, his pale complexion now flushed. I stomped into the hall, alerting him of my presence. He stared awkwardly at me, looking a little sheepish.

"Who are you?" I questioned, making sure that every degree of my annoyance seeped through his bones, sending shivers down his spine.

"L-len, Kagamine," he squeaked, before pausing.

"W-what? Don't tell me you're one of them. If you want to send chocolates—" I interrupted his frantic speech with a wave of my hand.

"What are _you_ doing here? Don't you know that this is my territory?" I demanded angrily.

He snorted. "_This, _is not your territory. This is part of the school compound."

"Well, technically it isn't, but—" I struggled with my statement.

"So then, it isn't!" he concluded, proud of himself as he smirked.

How can someone be so irritating?

As it was, Valentine's Day was getting on my nerves and he, too was distracting me from my main course of work. I scowled, before finally lunging for him. This was a move made purely on instinct, and I was sure that I would prove that this would be _my_ territory. I growled angrily, swiping at him with my bare fingers. He retreated, shocked. But he seemed to get the gist of my idea and played along. Drawing out our katana, we started getting into a dance, a rapid one that followed the rhythm of our thumping hearts. It wasn't before long before his face flushed with exhaustion. I swiftly dodged the sharp edge of his weapon, dancing in and out. The pattern repeated.

Much to my dismay, he had more stamina than I expected. I secretly looked forward to his surrender, only to be filled with shame as I had always taken each match seriously. My anger fuelled my strokes; swift, rapid, inconsistent and firm. I jogged about, trying to keep focus. He was clearly amused, mocking at the beads of perspiration forming on my head. I evaded the latest stroke, parrying it with my own katana. I shook my head, trying to rid myself of the dizziness; how could someone be so _fast_? And, as though fate had decided to make me suffer at its hands of _clicheness, _I stumbled over my leg, falling backwards. A soft noise informed me that my katana had dropped to the ground. Another noise, and I realised, dazedly that his katana had fallen to the ground as well. A shrill shriek escaped from my lips. And the worst part? Len caught me. Embarrassing, humiliating. This day was for the weak, soppy teenagers, so why was I blushing flaming red, my heart thumping madly?

I believe it was an acute attack of 'too-much-cliché'.

Nonchalantly, I gave a toss of my head, brushing my fringe to the side. He kept his hold on my hand, and it felt warm. I shall not tell you about the warmth that emitted from his hands, the pale milky skin in comparison to my rough, tanned ones. No, I shall also not mention the sight of his electric, piercing eyes that sparkled with delight. Of course, there will be no need to mention how I hoped so desperately that the mushy letter I received this morning was from him.

This is getting too much for me. I shall need to evacuate from this very place, away from the cheesiness of the atmosphere of _Valentine's Day_. It will be rather clever to dash out of this hellhole without hesitation and sink into the comfort of the bed, waiting for February the fifteenth to arrive. Instead, too cliché for my liking, I stood like a wooden board, rooted to the ground, as though I was hanging onto his every word. Me? A realist? Hanging onto a boy's words? I presume there must be something wrong with that sentence! It is a lie, something impossible!

And yet, due to this disturbing date, I have managed to spin reality into fantasy, mixing around the chemicals and characteristics of both worlds into one. This day, is a miracle! Please note the sarcasm intended.

"So..." His voice was husky, just as he grinned. "What are you doing here?"

"What?" I rebutted.

"Well, most girls will be pinning all their hopes onto every single word of the love letters, gawking openly at the roses they have received-" he rolled his eyes, and I was insulted.

"For your information, _not all of the female population_ do believe in Valentine's Day. It's really stupid, and _cliché_. Besides, roses wither. And papers eventually biodegrade," I shrugged, glaring at him, putting my point across.

He held up his hands in surrender, lifting mine into the air as well. Tactfully, I tried to slip my hand away from his, yet he was still alert and grasped onto mine with a more secure grip. I shifted my gaze to our hands, feeling the embarrassing hissing of my thudding heart. The drumming had escalated into a louder thumping, and I felt giddy. He tugged on my hand again, and I flinched, before raising my head to face his. The thumping evolved to a erratic and frantic pulsing, echoing in my ears. I took up the challenge stubbornly, gazing into his eyes.

A slight flutter of the heart and a knot in the stomach.

"What?" I was relieved that my voice was still steady and clear.

He remained staring. And even though I wanted to turn away, perhaps shake his hand off mine, it was too intense for me to move. The magnetic neon blue eyes that bore into mine was arrogant, spoilt as I could not help but obey; releasing my full attention upon it. I was breathless, enchanted. Like it hurt to even _breathe_, like it was aching to even divert my attention for a split second. _Cliché_, it sounded, but I was under the spell, relishing every part of it.

And Len bent down, hesitating, before he kissed me. It was a short and simple kiss, and it was mind-blowing. What was that word again? _Clique? Cloche? _Ah, yes, of course; _Cliché_.

"Why did you do that?" I asked softly, once he released me.

"Because I felt like it," Len chuckled, shaking his head and pulling me closer.

So now, the aloof Miku found her prince and lived happily ever after. Her first kiss stolen for no reason; apparently love at first sight. _Cliché_? Definitely.


End file.
